The Art of Being a Malfoy
by shelovedhorses
Summary: Malfoy, disgusted with the life he has led has taken to the streets and ends up drinking, and meets Hermione who has some problems of her own. Set several years after graduation and the war.


The Art of Being a Malfoy

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Didn't he know that every mark he had every strived for, every goal he had ever sought was in order to impress him? To say something positive for a few seconds, and then brush him off as if he were stray crumbs clinging with more strength than the rest to his shirt… He crumpled the papers in his hands…They were meaningless, useless, and for all he cared, he could forget all the memories they brought him. It frustrated him to no end. The life he had been building could not survive the great barriers his father had built between them. It's funny how idolizing someone so much can change your life so much.

He lay on the sidewalk, face-up, feeling the rain pour down on him and relishing every rain drop. The beating feeling it felt, as if it were beating everything his father ever wanted from him. He realized he looked like a fool, and probably was one. The thing that really amused him was the looks on everyone's faces if they saw him like this-in this pathetic state…to fall so low…He laughed out loud, a hearty laugh, realizing he did not have a clue as to what the hell he was doing, but it just felt so right. Whatever he was feeling was nameless, but whatever it was, it was welcome.

He watched as a couple, wary of him in his haggard state, sidestepped around him, cautiously, and barely giving him a second glance or a smidgen of concern. He wanted to say, 'Laugh at me…you could end up like this one day, realizing that your whole world was a farce. You'll realize that you don't know what the hell you're dealing with.' …because the truth was that he was like them except worse.

Sangfroid, he was devoid of emotion, devoid of any feeling, compassion, and as he wished, he ended up like his father was. Miserable and miserly. But, most of all, he'd wanted to feel everything. He'd always wanted to have everything wash over him in a tangible burst of pure emotion, just like the rain was doing to him.

The funny thing is that is his father was jealous of everyone who had the power and influence he didn't. He was envious of Voldemort and jealous of other men's wives. His mother, bless her soul, was envious of other women's husbands – the ones that cared for their wives and who truly loved them.

To master the art of being a Malfoy, all one has to do is envy someone else. Strive to be someone else. He was sick of it, but it was his curse. He walked along the sidewalk in a disoriented state, passing by shop windows and eventually stopped in front of the window of a coffee shop. Inside, he watched the patrons enjoy their lunches, happily, the glow and the atmosphere of the restaurant screaming at him, the worthlessness of his life. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that made his mouth gape wide open.

Harry fucking Potter and his friends laughing it up. His sidekick had his hand wrapped around some unfortunate slip of a girl and Granger had this smile on her face…the one that he'd always wanted to see on his mother's face. Pure happiness.

Damn them for kicking him when he was down.

And in that moment he envied something his Malfoyian predecessors had never considered. He envied their happiness. Their joy. His life was as empty as a blank slate and no matter where he went, where he ventured, it felt as if happiness was just escaping his grasp. He might as well live under a bridge, begging for money. Or…jump off one? He would never go that far. He'd already lived most of his miserable existence.

What was the point of discontinuing it with the sliver of a chance he may be happy in the future? He smirked for the first time in a long time. He used to ridicule people who hung onto small bits of hope despite the odds. Those were the idiots. The blundering fools that believed in something that would probably never come to fruition. With these thoughts, he took himself to the nearby bar to get smashed. Yes, thoroughly stoned. Forget everything, every little depressing thought. His booze was calling him.

He took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink, when he noticed a woman ordering a drink next to him. A familiar-looking woman… "Granger?" A few moments ago he had seen her so happy with the Golden Trio. Appearances could be deceiving.

She barely gave him a glance. "Malfoy," she acknowledged and then continued to down her poison.

She piqued his curiosity. What was she doing here? In this down-and-out place? In Knockturn Alley for that matter? "Aren't you supposed to be feeding the little orphans down the road? Or teaching the poor how to read and write?"

She chuckled as if he were out of his depth, as if he was a child. "You're still trying to get under my skin. After all these years, some people never change." Hermione, then turned to face him and took a good look at Malfoy, taking in his soaked, disheveled appearance from living off the sidewalk for the last few days. His hair looked like a bird's nest while the suit he was wearing was wrinkled and splotchy. The dazzle he usually had in his eyes just wasn't there. His eyes were dull and listless.

"Maybe they do…?" Her lips pulled up into a smile and she broke out into peals of laughter, the uncontrollable kind.

"I look that bad?" Malfoy said disbelievingly.

Hermione attempted to control the laughing and managed to breathe out, "and you smell just as bad.

"What's got you down in the dumps? I can't imagine your father would approve." Then, her eyes widened as she realized her mistake. "Sorry…I forgot…"

"It's fine. My father's presence is so strong that people always think he's still alive. He never dies." He sighed heavily. If only his father's spirit died. Then, he could bury himself with it.

Hermione rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. "Don't look as if you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders." She stopped and thought and then said, "That was Harry's job."

He smiled and rolled his eyes. "And then we come full circle to the Great Harry Potter."

She winced. "Why are you so bitter? I haven't seen you since graduation, but you look …awful. Like you've been living with the mole people in the sewers or something."

Malfoy gave her a pointed look. "I could say the same thing about you. Although you don't smell like you've been thrown in a garbage truck."

They were at a stalemate. Neither of them wanted to explain. Neither of them wanted to elaborate. They both just wanted to forget. Realizing this, they focused back on their alcohol and ignored each other until they forgot the other even existed.

Somehow he'd made it back to the apartment intact. He winced at the throbbing pain in his head, but did nothing to fix it. This was his punishment for whatever sins and wrongs he committed. The pain in a way was satisfying as if there were forces of good and evil and when evil was done, karma would come around. The sun was up and he opened his eyes to the blinding light.

Wait…he remembered suddenly. He didn't have an apartment, not anymore. Where was he? For a second, panic flittered through his mind and he was genuinely scared. He could have been kidnapped and then slowly tortured by a serial killer who decided to take the hobo off the sidewalk instead of the little girl with the lollipop.

"Are you awake yet Malfoy?" He was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard a distinctly feminine voice. His throat was scratchy, and he growled out, "Hermione? What happened?" He pulled himself off what appeared to be a worn-out sofa.

She appeared, bustling into the room as if she hadn't drunk her way into oblivion the previous night. She looked as if she was well-rested and another bright citizen of the world. She looked refreshed and awake and hangover-less.

She handed him a mug filled with piping coffee and explained, "You were so out of it yesterday and I couldn't leave you there. I brought you back to my place. I just kept imagining a serial killer or rapist having their way with you. You've lived such a privileged life. What would poor Draco do to defend himself?" She said making a face.

"Very funny…" he replied although he'd had the same thoughts. "So, what do you do if you're not teaching orphans how to read?"

She hung her head. "I'm a sex worker."

The coffee spewed out from his mouth and his mouth gaped open.

She looked at him. "Really, Draco? You believe me? You are so gullible."

"Well, one moment you look so happy with Potter and Weasley and the next thing I know, you're slumming beside me."

"Life got a little complicated. I'm not answering anymore questions of yours," she said adamantly. "Do you have a job to go to?"

"Nope," he answered. "I got backstabbed out of a job I hated and then stripped of all my assets and then realized that I must be the unhappiest man in the whole world."

Hermione looked at him pensively as if she was trying to put him in some sort of category, but eventually giving up, looked at her watch. "With that realization, you should know you have to do something useful now. Come with me to work and I'll get you a job." When she looked at the dismal expression on his face, she said, "Don't get too excited."

She grabbed her coat and handed him a clean suit.

Draco said, questioningly, "Where did you get this?"

"Had it lying around," she said and he could tell she was lying through her teeth. "Be warned. It won't be the most glamorous job but be a man and take it. Change your life."

The one person that seemed to believe in him was the one person he was brought up to hate.

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With a steaming shower and coiffed hair, it was no wonder that he had glances from every female he passed along the way to the supervisor's office. They had apparated to their location, so he had no idea where they were. "Where are we Hermione?"

"St. Mungos," she answered simply. "We're going to see the Department Head of Healing Potions and see if she can find a job for you. In this department, we create potions that treat and cure diseases and are used throughout this hospital and many elsewhere."

He followed her through the winding corridors until they reached a large office. They entered the office and closed the door. "Are you sure it's okay you went into your supervisor's office?"

"Don't worry," she said. "Because I am the supervisor."

"What?" He said astonished, as she sat down in the large leather chair on the opposite side of the desk.

"Please sit down, Mr. Malfoy, while I conduct the interview," she said primly.

He sat down and rolled his eyes. He'd play along.

She opened up a file and asked him, "Do you have a resume?"

"I just came off the streets. I was living with mole people," he said, clearly annoyed.

"Hmm…no resume," she jotted it down and frowned. "Any experience handling dangerous potions?"

"I was taken on as Professor Snape's apprentice. I handled materials a potions teacher would handle." Realizing that Snape probably had very dangerous ingredients, being a dark wizard under Voldemort for a while, he corrected himself. "I've handled very dangerous ingredients as Professor Snape's teaching and work was a little outside of the box…" (a.k.a. a little bit dark)

Hermione smiled to herself as if she had a little secret herself. "Professor Snape also took me on as an apprentice."

Draco was confused. Professor Snape had taken him on right after graduation. "When did he take you on?"

"Sixth year. I finished my mastery before the war."

Draco was dumbstruck. To finish the Mastery at such a young age and in so little time was practically impossible.

Hermione continued her interrogation. "Any credentials?"

He sighed. "I went to Hogwarts and then got offered a position at my father's company and completed my studies in potions at the same time."

"A Mastery?" Hermione questioned, curious.

He nodded.

"You're perfect for the job. Welcome to the team." She shook his hand, smiling.

He peered around her. "There's no one else here."

"Exactly. Just you and me. We have a whole department's work to do." She threw him a lab coat. She waved her wand and a door appeared opposite to the entrance. Opening it, she said, "This is the lab."

The whole place was bubbling with activity although the lab was empty. There were rows upon rows of cauldrons everywhere, steaming and gurgling.

Shocked, Draco could only say, "One thing I did learn with a Mastery is not to have so many volatile experiments left alone…together."

Her smile disappeared. "One thing you are going to learn with me Draco, is that I don't follow the rules. You only follow my rules and I have only one rule. Don't question anything I do. Just follow." With that, she started walking further in.

Draco stood stock still staring at her walking away. Who was this Hermione Granger? No rules? Was she joking?

"First thing we'll do is inventory." She led him to a room filled with bottles of potions and ingredients. "Put on these gloves." She handed him fluorescent pink gloves.

"If any of the potions spill or break, these gloves will transport you to a safe location. All of the potions are dangerous so don't assume any of them are the safe." She handed him a clipboard and pen. "Write down every ingredient or potion you see in this room – everything. I have to check up on some potions now, so do a good job." She left the room and he slipped on the gloves.

He looked down at the clipboard which had some writing on it already. He seemed to be working the most dangerous job in the world with the most dangerous substances known to wizard kind. He looked at some of the labels. Dragons blood, unicorn blood, essence of merman, eyeball of grindylow…

Some of these substances were the rarest substances on earth and most of them were illegal ingredients.

He panted after his hard day of counting bottles upon bottles of ingredients. He was working like a dog, so unlike a Pureblood, but he wanted to inflict this pain on himself. He felt he had a purpose at least, instead of roaming the streets. He left the room and looked at the clock. It was two 'o clock in the morning. He had lost track of time, consumed by his task. He found Hermione studiously attending to some cauldrons simultaneously.

"I'm done. Let's go back, please," he begged. "I'm dead tired."

"That's great." A smile brightened her surprisingly scary face. Her skin was blotchy and the circles under her eyes were so dark, he'd thought she had painted it black under her eyes. Her eyes were also bloodshot and he lips were cracked.

He couldn't help but ask what seemed to be a rude question, but considering her appearance, was valid and impossible not to ask. "What happened to your face?" He asked.

She ignored his question and instead asked him if he could do her one more favor.

"I better get paid a lot of money for the amount of work I do," Draco joked.

Hermione nodded. "Of course. Five times whatever you were earning at least."

He looked shocked. He'd had one of the highest paying jobs at his father's company. She explained, "We are running an entire department and working overtime. We save millions of lives with each potion we create."

"Now about that favor…" The look on her face changed suddenly. She was so focused and he knew that because of the look on her face. She had been cranky and irritable a second ago and now she was Mrs. Sunshine. Something was not right.

That scared him the most. To be able to change her emotions in that instant…He only knew a few people who could do that…namely his father. His father used his emotions to manipulate people into doing things they did not want to do.

Recognizing that fact, his heart clenched painfully. He turned away from her. "No. I am not doing it."

She raised her voice, just like he knew she would, just like his father did. She spit out, "Do this favor for me, Malfoy."

"Back to last names, are we?" He said amused. It was obvious he had the power now. He could do something for her, she couldn't do herself. But why did it feel like he was the mouse cornered by the hungry cat.

She gripped his wrist and spun him around. "Do this," she ordered him.

She was scaring him. She was threatening him with her body. Her intimidating stance and that tone in her voice…So he pretended that he wasn't unnerved and said, "Fine, fine," coolly. He gave in.

"Grab two bottles of dragon's blood off the shelf and change your entry to eight bottles instead of twelve bottles."

"You're stealing four bottles of dragon's blood? Why?" He asked.

"I told you, I'm not answering anymore question!" She screamed, flailing her arms.

In that instant, his eyes connected with hers and he saw the desperation in her eyes and that undeniable loneliness and depression he saw in himself and he knew that she would do anything for him to steal those bottles of dragons' blood.

Dragon's blood was used in some healing potions but was widely discredited as a legal ingredient because the patients became hooked on it. It was a drug, it was an aphrodisiac, it was a painkiller. It was anything you wanted it to be. The one thing it couldn't do was not be addicting. Most anyone who began the treatment was hooked for life.

He grabbed two bottles, reluctantly and asked her, "Is this the stipulation? Is this why you hired me? To get you your next fix?" In an empty department, with him as a desperate slave-boy, she could do whatever she wanted. She could make up her inventory and steal what she wanted.

Hermione looked away and stuffed the other two bottles of dragons' blood under her trench coat.

With him, she had an extra pair of hands to hide more bottles of ingredients.

Addicts never admit they have a problem. He would know.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed the story. There might be another chapter. I apologize for the grammar and spelling and plot mistakes…and my problems with commas, but writing is fun. I have an exam on Thursday…and then it's over…and I'll have more time to write, probably.


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